


The perks of being a frequent flyer

by crazynadine



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, Anal Sex, Boys Kissing, Ian and Mickey doing well in the world, M/M, Mature Ian & Mick, Mile High Club, a bit OOC due to life circumstances, frequent flyers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-10
Updated: 2018-07-10
Packaged: 2019-06-08 00:37:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,927
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15231537
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crazynadine/pseuds/crazynadine
Summary: Prompt:  (via twitter)"Last night on a flight home, my boyfriend and I asked a woman to switch seats with me so we could sit together. We made a joke that maybe her new seat partner would be the love of her life and well, now I present you with this story...."This prompt was given to me by a friend in a FB chat. I obviously put a bit of a 'gallavich' twist on it.Enjoy....





	The perks of being a frequent flyer

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I have never been on a plane, so this is all bullshit straight outta my head. I did some research via google & whatnot, but most of this is fun for fun's sake. Don't believe everything that you read, especially if you're reading my shit. ;)

There were perks to being a frequent flyer. Mickey knew this. He's been flying non-stop for years now, due to his job. He's got Elite Platinum Status with Delta Airlines, through his company. So he was well aware of all he benefits that come with frequent travel for business. 

There was the mileage he earned, which he used every year without fail, to take a two week vacation to one exotic location or another. 

There was the early boarding, so he could bypass all the tourists, business class assholes, and old people. When is cutting the line not a good thing? 

And one could not forget the Executive Lounge. No matter what airport Mickey was in, no matter what continent he was on, the Executive Lounge was always on point. Free WiFi, so he could work, and often free drinks, since he was such a regular customer. 

The best thing about airports, though, is the fact that no one ever bothers him. He can sit alone, while he waits for his flight, in total, blissful solitude. The world goes on around him, but everyone is so twisted up in their own shit, no one interrupts him. 

Mickey takes his quiet time very seriously. Working in his high-stress finance job, people are always badgering him. Questions he has to answer, problems he has to solve. So he takes what little peace he can get, when he can get it.

And the airport is as solitary as it gets. 

He's seated in the Executive Lounge in the Delta Airlines terminal at LAX right now. He's got about an hour before his flight to Singapore boards, and he's utilizing the time to get some figures worked out before his meeting. He's got an important conference with a big client the morning after he lands on Singaporean soil, and he needs to make sure his shit's straight. 

Mickey's one of the best financial auditors working today, and he got that way by working hard and doing his homework. 

So he sticks his earbuds in and turns up his music, opening a document on his tablet. He peruses the numbers while Mudvayne bleeds out of his phone and into his head. He takes a long sip of his whiskey, stretching his neck out a little. 

He's not looking forward to this seventeen hour flight. No matter how many times he takes this trip, it wears him the fuck out every time. He's going to need a full twenty four hours once he lands before he's even going to be able to function again, never mind audit this giant tech company's books.

Sometimes, he thinks this job consumes too much of his life. But then he reminds himself that it's because of this job that he's seen the world, it's because of this job that he got out of the Midwest and away from his family's horrific legacy. The Milkovich name means nothing in California, and that's just the way he likes it. He's well and truly free, for the first time in his life.

So, if he has to work sixteen hour days, and fly thousands of miles each quarter, he's gonna do that shit. Because even if he earned his new life, it doesn't mean he can keep it if he slacks off.

He finishes off his drink, looking up and locking eyes with the bartender. She nods, giving him a wide smile, and starts fixing him another drink. Mickey nods back before returning his gaze to his tablet. 

Something's not quite right with these figures, and he's not going to be able to properly relax until he has it figured out. 

He's got forty five minutes before early boarding starts, and he wants to get as much work done as possible in that time. 

 

******************************

 

Sometimes, Ian's still in awe that this is his life. When he was seventeen, newly diagnosed with bipolar disorder, he was certain his life was over. That he would never amount to anything, and all his dreams were as good as dead.

But he got a second chance, and ran with it. 

With a lot of hard work, and just a bit of amazing luck, Ian was now a successful event manager for Intelapps, an up and coming tech firm based in Los Angeles. His job was a dream. He pretty much flew all over the world, planning events and parties for his company. Intelapps was cutting edge, and very chic. The entire company exuded class and sophistication, and it was Ian's job to plan all their parties, conferences and media events. 

It always gave him an incredible confidence boost when one of his events was a hit. He was well known and well liked throughout the company. Ian's not above admitting he likes being the popular guy. 

He also likes the amazing condo he bought in West Hollywood, and his brand new Audi. But the best part of being successful was being able to help his family out. He may have left Michigan in the rear view, but he would never leave his family behind. 

He'd had a few rough years with his family, around the time he was just coming to terms with his diagnosis. That same year, Fiona, his older sister and only real parental figure, had packed up his entire family and moved them from Chicago to Kalamazoo, so her boyfriend could attend medical school there. Ian had been livid. How dare his sister uproot all their lives just so she could chase her asshole boyfriend around? 

But once Ian got sick, having Jimmy around had been a blessing. Fiona and Jimmy had moved their wedding up six months so Ian could be put on Jimmy's health insurance. Ian had been able to get the treatment he needed, in a timely manner, and avoid some serious repercussions of his new, frightening diagnosis. 

He finished high school, went onto college, and the rest is kind of history, isn't it? 

It wasn't easy. It's still not easy a lot of the time. He still has swings. Days when he feels like he's going so fast the rest of the world will never catch up. Or days when he feels like he's slow-moving death, like nothing ever mattered or will ever matter again. 

But he can handle it now, and anything else life throws at him. He's sure of that. 

Ian is thankful every day that things worked out just the way they did. Who knows where he'd be right now if not for a few random occurrences, and a lot of hard work. 

Ian shakes his head, forcing himself to focus on the task at hand, and not ancient history. He leans forward so he can pull his wallet out, handing his card over to the cabbie as the man pulls up in front of LAX. The man swipes his card without comment, handing it back to Ian and hitting a button to pop the trunk.

"Thanks." Ian says, pushing his sunglasses up on his nose and moving to leave the car. He grabs his bag out of the trunk, banging his fist on the trunk once and stepping toward the terminal as the cab speeds away. 

Ian is on his way to an important event in Singapore. A subsidiary of his firm, Mayhem Inc., is having a launch party at the Mandarin Oriental. This is Ian's wheelhouse. He is one bad ass event planner, and he's gonna make this party his bitch. 

He smiles to himself as he enters his terminal. 

This is gonna be a good trip, he can feel it. 

Ian travels so much, he's got the whole airport process down to a science. It's helpful that he's a frequent flyer as well. The benefits of that title can not be emphasized enough. 

Like right now. Ian wanders over to a desk to check his bag. He places the bag on the counter with a smile. The woman looks up from her computer, giving Ian a shy smile of her own. 

"Mr. Gallagher, how lovely to see you again." she says. Ian can see her cheeks turning red and he has to fight to not roll his eyes at her obviousness. 

"Hello Lydia." he says, giving her another stunner smile. "How are you." 

"I'm well, thank you." she replies, grabbing his boarding pass. She ran it under a scanner before handing it back to him."Where are you headed to this time?" 

"Singapore." Ian replied, drumming his fingers on the desk as she looked over his passport redundantly, handing it back with another small smile. 

"It must be so amazing, going to all these exotic places." Lydia says, her voice laced with wonder. 

Ian chuckled, shaking his head. "I usually only see the inside of conference rooms." which is true in a way. Often times, he doesn't get to explore the cities he visits, too consumed with work for any personal sight seeing or leisure activities. 

"Well, I'm sure it's much more exciting that working at the airport." Lydia laughed. 

"You may have me there." Ian laughed, taking his ticket from her outstretched and and moving to continue further into the airport. 

"Have a nice trip, Mr. Gallagher, and thank you for flying Delta." Lydia called after him. Ian turned to face her, walking backwards the whole way. "Thanks." he gave her a wave. "See you next time." 

Lydia waved enthusiastically, causing Ian to chuckle once more as he turned back around. The girl had a ridiculously blatant crush on him, but his baggage had never been lost, so he's not in any rush to discourage her. 

Ian glanced at his watch, relieved to find he still had about an hour and a half before his flight would start to board. He had plenty of time to get some work done in the Executive Lounge. 

Another benefit of his job was the frequent flyer package he got through Intelapps. The free drinks, the in-flight entertainment, the five star hotels. All included in his contract. 

He got into line at the security checkpoint behind an elderly couple. He once again fought the urge to roll his eyes. 

Too bad his frequent flyer status couldn't get him out of these invasive pat downs... 

 

************************

 

After a somewhat humiliating frisking at security, and extra time wasted as an over-zealous TSA agent went through his entire carry-on twice, Ian finally made his way to the Executive Lounge. He needed a drink, like an hour ago. He opens the door and makes a bee line for the bar. He drops his laptop bag on the bar top, waiting patiently for the bartender to finish mixing a drink for another customer. 

Once she's done, Ian lifts a hand and she wanders over. "What can I get you?" she asks, hands on her hips. 

"Vodka tonic, please." Ian says, giving her another of his generic smiles. He finds that people are always more willing to serve you expeditiously if you smile at them. 

"Coming right up." she says as she starts mixing his drink. 

"I'll just be over there." he points to a table in the far corner as he makes his way over. 

He takes a seat and immediately pulls out his laptop. He's waiting on several important confirmation emails from vendors for his party. The event is in two days, and Ian needs to dot all his I's and cross all his T's as soon as possible. Last minute just doesn't cut it in his line of work. 

The bartender comes over with his drink just as he gets his email open. He thanks her with another smile and takes a satisfying sip of his drink as he peruses his correspondence. 

He can hear the faint sound of music coming from somewhere nearby. It's not uncommon to hear that in the airport lounge, but the music he's hearing is in fact, quite unusual. Normally, you'll hear top 40, or smooth jazz. Even classical is common in the first class airport lounge. 

But what Ian's hearing right now is metal. Death metal. Blood curdling screaming and clanging guitars. 

It brings a smile to Ian's face. 

He glances up surreptitiously. He doesn't want to get caught looking, after all. 

There is a man sitting two tables over. He's gorgeous. That's the first thing Ian notices. He's seated, so Ian can't really see his body, but he's got jet black hair, and the bluest eyes Ian's ever seen. He's obviously a professional. He's sitting at the table, tablet in hand, headphones in, immersed in his work. He doesn't even bother to look up when he reaches for his drink, he's that focused. 

He's wearing a blue suit, one that makes his eye pop in a way Ian's never seen before outside Photoshop. His suit jacket is tossed over the empty chair next to him, and the light blue shirt and grey vest he's wearing paint a very pretty picture. He's loosened his tie, making him look casual as fuck. 

Ian is instantly hard. 

This is a strange situation for Ian. He's not new to finding men attractive in unorthodox situations. He is however, new to popping a freaking boner in the airport bar over some stranger in a sexy suit. God, he feels like a prepubescent idiot. 

He breaths slowly, in and out through his nose. He closes his eyes and turns all his focus on deflating his dick. After a few moments, once the crisis has been averted, he opens his eyes again, only to find the sexy suit stranger watching him. The guy has this little smirk on his lips, and Ian feels his problem trying to arise again. Ian swallows, looking back toward his laptop. 

He can feel the guy's eyes on him, but he ignores it. What would be the point of hitting on a guy in the airport? Ian is literally leaving the country in less than two hours. And he's well past his 'hooking up in public restrooms' phase of his life. 

Although, he'd break that rule, for this guy. God, he's fucking gorgeous. 

Focus, Ian. Jesus. 

He does his damnedest to bring his attention back to his emails. He sees a particularly troubling one from the caterer. Something about being unable to procure fresh Yellow tail by the agreed upon date. 

Ian's eyes bug out of his head as he reads the correspondence. It's enough of an emergency to draw his attention away from the hot motherfucker in the blue suit. 

Besides, Ian reminds himself, pretty boys are to be found in every port. 

 

***********************

Mickey could tell the sexy red head two tables over was checking him out from the moment he sat down. He wasn't very stealthy about it. That poor schmuck wouldn't last a day in the old neighborhood.

The thought made Mickey chuckle. He doesn't think about the old neighborhood very often, or the life he left behind. He wonders, for a moment, what brought on that little bit of nostalgia, before dismissing it entirely to focus on his work. 

Well, he tries to focus on his work. But the hot red head is making it pretty fucking hard to concentrate. 

He thinks he's slick, that much is obvious. But he's not. Not even a little bit. Mickey doesn't even have to look up to know the guy is undressing him with his eyes. 

Now, Mickey's not new to guys checking him out. He's been out and proud-ish for years now. Ever since he was scooped up by his uncle and rescued from the hellscape existence that was Terry Milkovich's household. 

It's not like he's some rainbow flag waving queen or anything, but he's certainly not ashamed of who he is anymore.

And he's certainly not opposed to some shameless flirting. 

He decides in the moment to tease the hot ginger, if only for a moment. The opportunity is too good to pass up. 

So he pretends like he's focused really hard on the figures he's reviewing. He glances down at his tablet, running his fingers through his hair, then along his lower lip, trying not to smile and give himself away. He keeps up the ruse for a minute or so before glancing over toward the guy. 

He's pleased to catch the red head staring again. Mickey gives him a censorious look, although he's only playing. The guy's eyes widen at being found out, and he blushes, suddenly finding his laptop very interesting again. 

Mickey chuckles. Teasing this guy is probably the most fun he's had all morning. The airport is always so dull, nothing remotely interesting ever happens on any of these work flights. 

Mickey's not quite done with the sexy ginger just yet. He smiles into his whiskey as he finishes off the drink, dropping the empty glass back to his table and picking up his pen instead. He's got a small pad of paper out, to take notes on important points he wants to remember for later. He scribbles down a question he needs to ask at his meeting, squinting at the paper. He has to get the wording just right, as to not alienate the client. 

He slips his pen into his mouth, twisting it between his lips. It's a habit he's had all his life, one his sister thinks is disgusting. It's just something he does when he's thinking really hard. 

It serves a duel purpose in the moment, however. Unconscious comfort for Mickey, and instant allure for his observer. 

Mickey smiles to himself as he twirls his tongue around the pen, not bothering to look up. He keeps his eyes locked on his tablet, knowing full well the suited up sexy stranger is watching his every move like a hawk. 

Mickey pulls his pen from his mouth, running it along his lips before twisting his tongue around it once more. His eyes shoot up quickly, and he catches the handsome red head openly gawking this time. 

The guy's mouth is hanging open, his eyes are wide. Mickey gives him a flirty smirk. He's about to go over and start up a conversation. Just because he can't hook up with the guy now, doesn't mean they might not be in LA at the same time again in the future. 

Mickey shuts down his tablet, tucking it and his notebook away in his carry-on. He's about to make his way over to the enticing stranger, when someone calls his name. 

"Mickey!" 

Mickey sighs, turning around. He knows that voice. 

"Hey, Elton." Mickey says, plastering on his most professional smile. "What are you doing at LAX?" 

Elton is a colleague from work, from the Human Resources Department. He and Mickey are not friends, per say, but Mickey tries to be polite when he can. It's not good to make useless enemies at work. So he smiles and nods and listens as best he can to Elton's inane jabbering. 

"My cousin's wedding! In Tuscany. I told you on Monday." Elton says. 

"Ah, yeah, okay." Mickey replies. Elton smiles, immediately launching into a story about something wedding related Mickey does not give a shit about. 

Mickey smiles and nods, zoning out the entire time, as Elton changes gears toward work shit. 

"You're on your way to Singapore for the audit, right? Walk me to the gate, I've got some things I want to ask you." 

Mickey holds in a groan, but follows Elton out of the lounge nonetheless. He doesn't have to look back to know the sexy stranger is still watching him. 

Mickey can't help but feel like he may have missed an opportunity there...

 

*****************************

 

Ian watches the guy leave the bar with some generic-looking bro dude. He sighs, unsure why he feels like he missed out on something. He is not interested in random sex with strangers, especially not in the god damn airport bathroom. 

But he can't help but feel like the guy was flirting with him. That tongue assault of that innocent ball point pen had to be purposeful, right? No one is that blatantly sexy on accident. 

Jesus, Ian needs to get his shit together. He's got work to do. He draws his focus back to his laptop. He works for another twenty minutes or so, finishing of his vodka tonic, and ordering another. He emails his assistant, Umi, about the Yellow tail debacle, then sends a quick message to the client, promising to fix the problem before he lands. The flight is seventeen hours, so he's sure Umi will have it all cleared up before Ian even gets to his hotel room. 

He glaces at his watch, realizing he has to hurry up if he wants to make early boarding. He got significantly distracted during his time in the lounge. As he gathers up his things to make his way to the gate just as the loudspeaker over head crackles. "Now boarding first class passengers for the 2 pm flight to Singapore. Please make your way to gate C4." 

Ian is surprised he's actually running a little late. He's always the first in line to board. He can't help but think his little run in with that shit-stirring flirt with the oral fixation has messed him up a little more than he's willing to admit. 

He makes his way to the gate, his carry-on slung over his shoulder. The line is still short, but he has to wait behind about six people. He takes out his phone, returning some important texts, and sending one to Fiona. His sister always gets really nervous whenever he flies, even after all this time. So he texts her before and after each flight, just to ease her nerves. He figures it's the least he can do, after putting her through hell for so long. 

It's finally Ian's turn. He hands over his boarding pass and passport. The attendant gives it a cursory glance, scanning the boarding pass while Ian walks through a final metal detector. (no pat down this time, thank god) The attendant hands back Ian's documents and he's let through the gate. He makes his way down the long hallway, quickening his steps. He just wants to get comfortable in his seat, it's a long flight and he's still got a lot of work to do. 

Ian boards the plane, looking down at his ticket before scanning the first class cabin for his seat. 

Ian loves flying first class. The seats are more comfortable, they recline more and are further apart than in coach. Not to mention each seat has it's own television monitor, embedded in the seat in front of it. There are only two seats to each row, and the small table between the two seats can be used to hold drinks, or can be lifted up and away to make one long, comfortable seat, like at the movies. Not that Ian has anyone to cuddle with on these business flights. But sometimes, if he's lucky enough to get two seats to himself, he can lift the divider, and stretch out to get some sleep. 

Ian glances down at his ticket. His seat is in 3D. Window seat. Score. He makes his way over. 

The first class cabin is small, only ten seats or so, in rows of two. The rest of the plane is significantly more crowded. He places his belongings in the overhead compartment before taking his seat and opening his tablet. His laptop is stowed until take off, so he'll have to work on his tablet until he's in the air. 

He's significantly early, so the cabin is pretty deserted. The attendants aren't even taking drink orders yet, so Ian has the space to himself. He works quietly for some time. He can hear a bit of commotion as other passengers start to filter in, but he doesn't bother to look up, it matters little to him. 

That is until someone comes to stand right next to his seat. He supposes it's whoever is slated to sit next to him in 3C. He has no intention of giving up his window seat, but he glances up anyway, just to be polite.

"Um, hello." It's a petite blonde. She's wearing a sundress and has a small Louis Vuitton carry-on slung over her shoulder. 

Ian gives her one of his 'nice guy' smiles, but does not move to stand. "Hello."

"I was wondering if you'd be willing to move seats." the woman replies, clearly nervous. Ian's brow furrows, but he still makes no move to stand. 

"Move seats? For what reason?" 

"Well, you see..." the woman starts, looking over her shoulder to a man that is standing a few rows up, taking up the whole isle, arms crossed over his chest. He is clearly irritated. "That's my fiance, over there. Eric. We paid to be seated together, but the airline screwed it all up. It's a seventeen hour flight and we are on our way to get married on the ocean...." she paused, probably realizing she was rambling. "The thing is, this is my seat, but my fiance is over there in 2A. I'd be so appreciative if you'd consider switching with me. It's just such a long flight, and we want to be close to each other, so close to our marriage, you know? You can still have the window seat, up there." she gave him what Ian was sure was her best puppy dog expression. Too bad it did nothing for Ian. She probably would've been smarter to send her fiance over. But Ian was not a complete dick, so he sighed, gathering up his things. A wide smile bloomed on the woman's face as soon as Ian started moving. 

"Oh! Thank you so much, sir. I really appreciate it. You are so kind." she clapped her hands, jumping up and down a little before turning in the isle. "Eric! Come on honey, this nice man is willing to switch with you!"

Ian was up and out of his seat quickly. He shook the man's hand, waving him off as he started to thank him again.

"It's no big deal." Ian assured them. "Congratulations, on you wedding." 

"Thank you." the couple replied in unison as they got comfortable in Ian's vacated seat. 

His good deed for the day done, he made his way over to his new seat in 2A. When he got to the top of the isle, his heart stopped. Seated in 2B, with his headphones in and his tablet out, was none other than the death metal guy from the airport lounge. What are the odds? 

Ian feels an odd panic settle over him. It takes him by surprise, because he has no reason to be nervous. So what if he'd been checking out this guy in the lounge. So what if the guy had caught him? So what if the guy may or may not have been flirting with him? He was a god damn professional, on his way to an important event. He probably won't even end up talking to the guy, who looks very much engrossed in his own business anyway. 

Okay, he can do this. 

"Excuse me." he says, waiting for the other man to acknowledge him. 

The man does not look up. He's got his headphones in, more brash metal blaring from between his ears and into the space around him. 

Ian swallows, reaching out with two fingers to tap the man on the shoulder. The moment he makes contact, the man jumps, his hand flying out and gripping Ian's wrist in a bone-crushing hold. Ian winces as the man finally looks over. He releases Ian's hand, which he pulls to his chest immediately, rubbing his sore joints tenderly. 

"Ouch." he mutters, gaping at the sexy stranger with befuddled amusement. 

Well, that could have gone better. 

And he still has to inform the guy that they will be flying together for the next seventeen hours. 

Great....

******************************

 

Mickey lets his hand fall back to his lap, looking up at the sexy stranger from the lounge, who is still hovering over him, rubbing his wrist.

Mickey feels like a little bit of a dick for grabbing him like that, but old habits die hard, and it's never a good idea to creep up on someone. 

Apparently this guy doesn't know that shit. 

Mickey pulls his headphones from his ears, dropping them into his lap as he stares at the intriguing red head. 

"Not smart to sneak up on people." Mickey says, clearly leaving no room for argument. Then, he's hit with that strange pang of guilt again. Is he feeling guilty over being rude to a stranger? Since fucking when? 

"What can I do for you, dude." he adds on, since this guy clearly needs something, and Mickey mysteriously wants to help. 

"Well, I've moved seats to help out that nice couple over there." Ian motions over toward the couple, who are already canoodling in his vacated spot. "And the woman informed me that her fiance's seat was here." the guy says, giving him a wide smile. "So I guess we're flying together." 

Mickey barks out a harsh laugh, looking over toward the couple a few isles up. "That pussy told me to move." he looked up at Ian, giving him his own dark smile. "I told him I'd kick his teeth in if he didn't fuck off."

Mickey watched, amused, as the hot red headed asshole gulped, shuffling nervously from side to side. 

"But if I'd have known it was you I'd be sitting next to, I wouldn't have made such a fuss." 

Mickey stands from his seat so the enticing ginger can slide by him and into the window seat. He shamelessly checks his ass out as the guy stows his bag in the overhead compartment. Damn. 

"Thanks for not making this weird, I was just trying to do something nice for them." the guy says, flopping into the seat by the window.

"Yeah, whatever." Mickey replies. He's not trying to be rude, but he really needs to get this work done, and hopefully before the in-flight meal. He'd like to relax on SOME of this flight, at least. But he knows he won't be able to truly unwind until he knows this issue's been resolved. So he pops his earbuds back in and goes back to work. If he's feeling so inclined, he can always talk up the sexy red head later. 

As Mickey's looking over the confusing figures for the millionth time, he lets himself wonder for a minute, what are the odds that this intriguing stranger from the lounge would be on his flight? 

Mickey doesn't believe in fate. Or soulmates. Or love at first sight. He hardly believes in love at all. So he chalks it up to a random coincidence and gets back to work. 

He's got more important shit to focus on. 

 

*****************************

 

Ian tries to ignore the sexy motherfucker seated next to him. He pulls out his phone, replying to Umi quickly. She seems to have solved the Yellow tail debacle, and will call Ian with the details once his flight lands.

He breaths a sigh of relief, one less stupid thing for him to stress about. 

Before he knows it, the plane is taxiing toward the runway. Ian shuts off his phone, shoving it into his pocket as his seat mate turns off his tablet and places it in the little pocket in front of his seat. 

Ian zones out while the flight attendants go over the safety demonstration. He could probably do the whole thing himself from memory at this point. He chances a glance at the man next to him while the chief stewardess talks about flotation devices. The dark-haired man rolls his gorgeous blue eyes, and Ian smiles. Looks like his little crush is a frequent flyer too...

Once the pre-flight speeches are concluded, they finally get up in the air. Only after they are above ten thousand feet can Ian take his seat belt off and get another much needed drink. 

"Fucking finally, huh?" the dark haired beauty to his right says to him, looking over at Ian with a smirk. "Thought that windbag was never gonna shut up. Kinda wish they had special flights, just for frequent flyers, y'know? So we could skip all that bullshit and just get the fuck in the air." 

Ian laughs, nodding. "I get that, trust me. Sometimes I feel like I spend more time in the air than I do on the ground." 

"Well, with fuckin' seventeen hour flights, I can see how you'd feel that way." the man chuckles. "I'm Mickey, by the way. If we're gonna be hanging out for the next however long, we should at least be properly acquainted, yeah?" 

"Yeah, absolutely." Ian beams. He grimaces, internally telling himself to chill the fuck out. "Ian. Ian Gallagher." he puts his hand out between them, and Mickey takes it, giving it a small shake. Ian goes to remove his hand, but Mickey doesn't let go. "I saw you." he says, pulling Ian incrementally closer. "In the Executive Lounge. I saw you." 

Ian can feel his whole face heat up. He's certain he's blushing like a fucking virgin right now, caught out by this insanely sexy stranger. 

"I, um. Sorry?" he stammers, feeling dumber by the second. 

"Don't be. Never said I didn't like it. You starin' or whatever." Mickey replies, raising his eyebrows suggestively. 

He watches Ian's face scrunch up in confusion. His eyes widen, and a bright, blinding smile spreads across his lips. 

"Oh." Ian says, still smiling. "Okay then." 

Mickey's not new to flirting with hot strangers. It's how he gets his rocks off, ninety percent of the time. But there's something about this guy that makes him, what? Nervous feels like the wrong word. 

Giddy seems to be a more accurate description for the feeling he's experiencing in the moment. This guy obviously has a bit of a boner for Mickey, and Mickey has no problem with that whatsoever. A little harmless in-flight flirting never hurt anyone. 

It's not like anything would come of it, anyway. Ian could be a pretentious dick. Most of the men he met on these types of flights were. Big money, big attitude, small dick. That's been Mickey's experience anyway, the handful of times he's hooked up with someone he met on a flight. 

But, hey, you only live once. And seventeen hours is a long time. 

"I wasn't trying to be a creep, you know." Ian says just as the stewardess comes over to take their drink orders. "You just have a very specific look that you don't see a lot in the Executive Lounge." 

Mickey laughed, ordering a whiskey before turning to Ian. He ordered another vodka tonic, and once the stewardess gave them their drinks and wandered off, Mickey turned back to Ian. 

"What, these tats don't go with your image of a corporate stooge?" he laughed, making two fists and holding them out so Ian could read the faded ink on his knuckles. 

Ian's eyes widened, and he probably fell a little bit in love at that moment. "You have a corporate job with 'fuck u up' on your knuckles? How in the fuck?" 

"I'm good at my job, that's how. Best in the business, not to toot my own horn or whatever." 

"Wow. You must be good to get a pass on that shit." Ian is amazed. No one would even get an interview at Intelapps with ink like that. "What do you do?" he asks, because now he's curious. 

"I'm a corporate auditor." Mickey says, taking a sip of his drink. "I pretty much fly all over the world, auditing corporations. I snuff out shit like tax irregularities, fraud, embezzlement. All that shit. I'm on my way to Singapore right now to go through the books over at Fever Dreams Inc. I guess they make apps? I don't fucking know. What I do know is that 1.25 million dollars has been misallocated, and I'm heading over there to set that shit straight." Mickey smiled at the confused look on Ian's face. "I'm guessing you don't work with numbers." he chuckled. "What are you heading over there for?" 

Ian laughed, feeling a little silly all of the sudden. He was never embarrassed by his job. He's damn good at it, and gets fucking PAID. Usually, the twinks he brings home from the bar are really impressed. 

Shit, he's getting ahead of himself again. Just because Mickey is talking to him, doesn't mean he want to know Ian, or fuck Ian. 

'Calm the fuck down, Ian.' he berates himself silently. 

"I'm an event manager with Intelapps." Ian says, squaring his shoulders. He is proud of his work, and he doesn't know why he feels like his job doesn't stand up to his new acquaintance's. "I plan events, all over the world, at various corporate offices." 

"You throw parties?" Mickey asks. The one question Ian was dreading. He takes a sip of his drink, already jonesing for a second. 

"Not just parties, but yeah, kind of. We do retreats and conferences as well as parties." 

"Damn, that sounds pretty sweet." Mickey laughs. Ian's little anxiety bubble pops in his chest the moment the sound of that laugh hits his ears. "Better than sitting locked up in a stuffy office all day going over files and bank accounts." 

"It's not all drinks and dancing." Ian laughed back. 

Mickey smirked at him. "No?" 

"No. Not at all." Ian shook his head. "There's a lot of planning and emails. Phone calls and irritating vendors." 

"Oh, see, I couldn't do that." Mickey shook his head. "I can't work with people. Always wanting shit, all demanding and condescending. You've got to have balls for something like that, not to mention patience. I'd probably deck someone the second they got all snippy with me about their vegan souffle or whatever." 

Ian laughed at that. Hard and loud. He knew he should keep it down, a lot of people were reading or engaged in in-flight entertainment of one kind or another, but he couldn't help it. Mickey was funny. And brash. And real. And he seemed to be interested in Ian, even if only for meaningless conversation. 

They talked for a bit more, about work, and Singapore, since both of them had been before. The stewardess came back around, giving them both two more drinks and taking their orders for the in-flight meal. 

"Imma have the Argentinian beef." Mickey says quickly. He's had it before on this flight, and it's fucking delicious. The stewardess nods with a small smile before looking to Ian. 

"Um, well, I think I'll have the Thai beef salad. Thank you." 

The woman walks away and Mickey is already shaking his head in disgust. 

"What?" Ian asks, huffing out a small laugh.

"I just don't get why you'd wanna ruin a perfectly good cut of beef by putting it in a fucking salad." Mickey chuckled. 

"Fuck off." Ian laughed. "It's good. Have you ever had it?" he challenged. 

"Fuck no. And I never will. Fucking lettuce. No thanks." 

Ian laughed again, he could feel his whole face aching from how much he was smiling, just sitting here with this man, talking about nothing. 

While they are waiting for dinner to come, Mickey pulls his tablet back out. He's waiting for a confirmation for a meeting he's having the following day. His assistant, Geoff, is supposed to get him reservations at some crazy expensive five star restaurant so he can wine and dine these assholes before he takes them to task over their shitty bookkeeping. He's in the middle of replying to Geoff when he sees something out of the corner of his eye. 

Ian is fishing around in the inside pocket of his suit jacket. He pulls a small pill case from inside and flips it open. He takes two pills from inside, and is about to toss them back when he catches Mickey watching him. 

"You sick?" Mickey asks before he can stop himself. Oops, that was rude, wasn't it? He doesn't even know this guy. What the fuck is he doing, asking him personal questions like that?

Ian forces a small smile onto his face. Is he sick? That's a loaded question, isn't it? But he doesn't know this guy, probably never will, really. 

So he lies. 

"No." he laughs. "Just for my flight anxiety. It's just valium." Ian shows him the two small blue pills. 

Mickey nods, he knows a benzo when he sees one. One of many leftovers from his life with Terry. 

"You want one?" Ian asks before he can help himself. 

Mickey raises his eyebrows, smiling. 

"I mean, you look like you could use it." Ian shrugs, still holding his hand out. "Y'know, with your work related stress and all." 

"Work related stress?" Mickey laughs. considering. The he nods. "Fuck it, hand it over." 

So Ian does. He passes the pill to Mickey, and when their fingers brush, a jolt of electricity runs down Ian's spine, straight to his groin. 

Holy fuck.

Nothing like that has ever happened to him before. 

He watches, enraptured, as Mickey gives him another smirk before tossing the pill in his mouth and swallowing it down with a swig of his whiskey. 

"Thanks man." Mickey says, voice low. He leans over the arm rest, like he's going to say something he wants only Ian to hear. 

Ian is desperate to know what Mickey has to say, but just as the other man opens his mouth to speak, the stewardess comes back with their meals. 

Ian swears he sees disappointment flash in Mickey's eyes as he leans back in his seat so the woman can place their meals down on their trays. 

God damn it. 

Ian grabs up his utensils, cutting into the beef atop his salad. He looks over to Mickey, hoping he would continue with whatever he was about to say, but the other man is engrossed in his meal. 

Ian holds in a sigh. The moment is lost. 

He looks back to his own meal as his stomach growls. 

Oh well, there's still like fifteen hours on this flight. Ian's nothing if not persistent. 

 

****************************

 

Mickey's feeling good. Real fucking good. 

He's got a belly full of delicious food, and the booze he's drank on top of the pill his traveling companion supplied him with has him feeling calm and loose. 

Mickey kind of wants to start a movie, but he kind of want to get to know Ian a little bit, too. 

Out of the two options, it's not really much of a contest. 

He turns to Ian with what he can tell is a bit of a loopy smile on his face. "So, Ian. Where you from?" 

Ian turns to him, mirroring his smile. "I live in California now, but my family's in Michigan City." 

"Oh yeah? You're from the Midwest? I was born in Chicago, but moved out to Highland Park when I was sixteen or so." 

"No shit?" Ian's face is the picture of shock. "I was born in Chicago too! My sister and her husband moved our whole family out to Michigan, so he could go to med school out there." 

"No shit?" Mickey says. He turns in his seat, surprise evident in his tone. "What part?" 

"Back of the Yards." Ian says, and Mickey can hear the pride in his voice. 

"Well, I'll be damned." Mickey breathes. "I'm south side too. Or was. I ended up in the fucking suburbs." 

"Wow." Ian sat back in his seat, overcome by the weight of what had just been discovered. "We were so close." 

"Yeah." Mickey agrees, feeling a bit strange about it himself. "Small world, I supposed." 

"So, is that where you live now? Highland Park?" Ian asks, suddenly wanting to learn as much as possible about this man he could have known in another life. 

"Nah." Mickey shakes his head, taking another sip of his drink. "I have a house in Laurel Springs." 

"Laurel Springs, California?" Ian asks, utterly amazed. "I live in West Hollywood." 

What are the fucking odds? This just keeps getting stranger and stranger...

"Well now." Mickey smirked. "I could never live in West Hollywood, that's a little too gay, even for me." 

Ian blanched. He opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out, causing Mickey to chuckle. 

"What?" Mickey laughed. "We play for the same team, right? Or am I totally misreading the signals here? The eye-fuckery in the lounge, this little 'getting to know you' dance we're doing here. I mean, is my gaydar totally off on this?" 

"No." Ian stammered, smiling. "I just usually don't get lucky like this." 

"You haven't gotten lucky yet, though, have you?" 

"Smart ass." Ian laughed. 

Mickey nodded shamelessly.

"So, I told you how I ended up in Michigan, how did you end up in Highland Park of all places. That's quite a step up from the south side." 

Mickey chuckled. "Don't I know it." he laughed, leaning over a bit so he could get up in Ian's space a little. Ian took the hint and moved the seat divider up so they could get as close as possible. Mickey could feel the heat radiating off Ian's body, and he instinctively inched closer. 

God, what is it about this guy? Mickey never does this shit. Talking, getting to know people. Especially not on work trips. 

But he's more than willing to toss all his rules right out the window, just to hear this dude's voice. 

Mickey's gone insane, that's what's happening here. 

He shrugs. What harm could come from telling Ian a little bit about himself?

"Well, when I was sixteen, my dad went missing. Word on the street was that he was wanted by the Feds for killing a couple gun runners. It was a big deal in the neighborhood. Cops all over the place, scouring every dark corner for my piece of shit sperm donor." 

"Wait a second." Ian interrupts, his hand flying out to grip Mickey's wrist, which was resting on the seat between them. Mickey looked down, and so did Ian. He pulled his hand away, embarrassed, and Mickey smirked again. 

"It's cool, man. I don't mind you touching me. Say what you were gonna say." 

Ian gave Mickey a small smile, his face heating up once more. 

"I was just gonna say, I think I remember that. Are you a fucking Milkovich?" Ian's voice is full of wonder, like being a Milkovich is something to be proud of. 

"Unfortunately." Mickey shrugs. "Why, is that an issue?" 

"No!" Ian exclaims, a bit too loudly, if the censorious look from an old lady two rows over is any indication. "No." Ian repeats much more quietly. He leans in close again, under the guise of whispering. "I'm a Gallagher. From Wallace Street. Your family is legendary in their debauchery around the old neighborhood." 

"Those Gallaghers? No shit. You guys have quite a reputation too. How did you end up a hoity toity event planner?" 

"I could ask you the same thing, Mr. Financial Analyst." 

"Auditor." Mickey corrected. "Two totally different things." 

"How about math nerd? That work for you?" Ian laughed. 

"Fuck off." Mickey pushed him gently with an open palm, secretly pleased when he moved right back into their close shared space. 

"But seriously." Ian said, setting his hand down onto the seat between them, dangerously close to Mickey's tattooed fingers. God, what Ian wouldn't do to just close the distance and grip his hand again. He doesn't, of course. But he wants to. "How'd it happen? Your dad go to jail?" 

"Nah, they never found the prick. If I had to say, I'd guess he's dead. Good riddance, if you ask me. Anyway, my uncle Melvin on my mom's side took me and my sister in. But a condition of us moving in with him was that we go back to school, cut it out with the crime and drugs and fighting. All that fun shit you live for in the hood, y'know? But we were homeless and Mandy, my sister, was scared to death of going into the system, so we took him up on the offer. With my prick ol' man outta the picture, I did pretty fuckin' good in school. Went on to college for finance. It's a shit ton of school, but I now make a shit ton of money, so even trade I guess." 

Ian laughed, smiling so wide his face hurt. He seems to be doing a lot of smiling, talking to this man. 

"I can relate to that." Ian replies. "Like I said, my sister moved us out to fucking Michigan, so her boyfriend at the time could go to med school. I was like a fish outta fucking water up there. Jimmy, that was the boyfriend, well, husband now, but anyway, his parents paid for everything. The house, our private schools. It was crazy, like a whole other world, y'know? I had a bit of a hard time around my senior year, but I found my way out of that shit." Ian decides not to delve into his diagnosis, or the chaos that ensued when he had his first bipolar episode. He doesn't fucking know this guy, probably never will. They are just making polite conversation. No reason to get too personal. "Got into event planning after I got my business degree. I mean, what gay guy doesn't like to party?" 

Mickey chuckled. "Yeah, I guess you gotta point there." 

They spent about an hour talking. About the old neighborhood, about their families. About moving to the suburbs, and how much of a culture shock it was. About college and all the madness that comes along with that time in life. About the strange coincidence of them growing up blocks away from each other, only to move apart, and ultimately end up living thirty minutes away from each other, half way across the country. 

Ian's not one to usually look at his life and say 'there's a twist of fate', but staring into those deep blue eyes, he can't help but wonder if he was put on this particular flight for a reason. He does know that he's not ready to let this guy go once they are back on solid ground. 

He wants more. More time. More Mickey. Just more. 

"Hey, you wanna watch a movie?" Mickey asks after a lull in conversation. Ian is feeling fuzzy around the edges, due to the booze he drank and the pill he took, so when he turns to face Mickey again, his movements are slower than normal. So is the smile that spreads across his lips. He feels like warm honey when he finally faces Mickey again. 

"I looked at the in-flight movies, they all suck." he replies, his voice coming out a little hoarse. 

"Fuck in-flight entertainment." Mickey replies with a smile. He pulls his tablet out from the pocket in the seat in front of him, cuing it up. "I got flicks on this bitch." 

"Sweet." Ian smiles, feeling warm and happy as he scoots closer to Mickey. 

"We're going to have to share these, though." Mickey looks over with a smirk, his headphones dangling from his fingers.

Ian gives him what he's sure is his goofiest smile, taking the offered bud and sticking it in his ear, as he leans in closer to his traveling companion so they can both see the screen. 

Mickey gives him one more small, sweet smile, before putting his earbud in and settling closer to Ian as he presses play on the movie. 

"Oh, I haven't seen this yet." Ian says, resting his head as close to Mickey's shoulder as possible without touching it. 

"You're in for a treat, my friend." Mickey says slowly. He smiles to himself, secretly hoping there's a double meaning to his words. 

If Ian stays this close to Mickey, Mickey just might be willing to give him all sorts of treats....

 

*********************************

 

A muted thud pulls Ian out of his slumber. He startles a little, his eyes flying open as he looks around. 

Shit, he must've fallen asleep. 

He looks over toward Mickey, who has nodded off too. His tablet had slid off his lap and landed on the floor. That was the noise that had woken Ian. 

Ian moves slowly, as to not wake Mickey. He pulls away from him, slowly dislodging Mickey's head from his shoulder, laying it gently against the headrest so he can bend over and retrieve the tablet and tuck it back into the pocket in front of Mickey's seat. 

Once Ian's sitting upright again, he looks over at Mickey. He's got this quiet, soft look to his face when he's sleeping. Although Ian can still see tension there. In the set of his jaw, or the way his eyebrows furrow as he twitches through his dreams. 

Ian realizes two things in that moment. 

Firstly, this man is god damn adorable when he's sleeping, even if his underlying restlessness is clearly visible. 

And secondly, Ian would like the opportunity to wake up next to Mickey again, in more comfortable circumstances. 

He looks at his watch, realizing he's got plenty of time on this flight still. So he rests his head back on Mickey's shoulder, inhaling deeply. The man smells incredible too. Tom Ford, Tobacco. Ian knows the scent. 

It's musky and manly and jesus fuck he's getting hard again. 

He shifts in his seat, trying to subtly adjust his junk without having to move to much. He finds that he likes being close to Mickey like this. As he cuddles as close as possible, he's hit with a strange notion. 

He wants to know Mickey better. Like, really know him. 

Past the inane, polite conversation. Beyond the 'we're stuck on this plane for hours on end, let's pass the time.' discussions. He wants to know everything. 

Ian can't remember the last time he's been this instantly attracted to a man. It feels strange, it's been a while since he's been legitimately interested in anyone beyond what they can do to his dick. But there is something different about Mickey, Ian can tell already. 

He decides, as he settles back into his seat to catch a little more sleep, that he's got to figure out a way to spend more time with Mickey. He has to know him, beyond this fateful flight.

 

*********************************

 

Mickey groans, rolling his shoulders as he slowly resurfaces from his nap. He smiles, eyes still closed, as Ian makes a small sound and shifts beside him. 

"Hey." he says quietly, nudging Ian with his shoulder. "C'mon, wake up. We only got an hour before we land." 

Ian sighs, sitting up straighter. He stretches his hand out and up above his head, grimacing at the loud crack that emanates from his shoulders. "Shit, we really fell asleep." he says redundantly. 

"No kidding." Mickey laughs. "I don't know about you, but I hate to wake up just as the plane lands. I get all discombobulated and irritated. And pissed off is not the way I want to start these work trips." 

Ian chuckles lightly, his voice hoarse from sleep. "Yeah, I get that." 

Mickey looks at him, like really looks at him. Sleep is a good look on the red head. His hair is mussed up and his face is a little puffy. He looks cute. And that is not a word Mickey uses. 

But it's true. 

They sit in companionable silence for a while. Ian takes out his phone, sending out some replies to inquires he received while he was passed out. Mickey sends a message to Geoff, reminding him to send flowers to his sister, since Mickey will regrettably be out of country for her birthday, and to confirm her flight for her visit out to California next month. Mickey's actually pretty excited to see Mandy. It's been almost a year since he'd been back to Illinois, and this will be the first time his sister will be coming out to see how he's living on the west coast. The visit is a big deal, even if Mickey would never say it. 

"What are you smiling about?" Ian asks from his left. Mickey locks his phone and looks over, seeing Ian has put his phone away and is solely focused on Mickey now. Mickey returns his smile, leaning back in his seat. 

"My sister's coming out to visit next month. Haven't seen her in a long fucking time." 

"Oh, that's nice. My family comes out all the time. It's nice to see them, but I'm glad when they go home." Ian chuckles. 

Mickey nods, smiling, and they fall into another comfortable silence, just looking at each other.

Now. Now is the time. 

Ian has been trying to work up the courage to say this since before they fell asleep. He has to do it. He has to at least try...

"So, where are you staying while you're in Singapore?" Ian asks, holding his breath and hoping Mickey doesn't think he's a total creep. 

"The Ritz." Mickey replies, eyebrows raised. "Why?" 

"Oh, The Ritz. I'm at the Mandarin Oriental. We're on the same street." 

"Yeah." Mickey agrees. "I've stayed at the Mandarin. It's nice over there." 

"Do you think you'll have any free time while you're here? In Singapore, I mean." Ian asks, trying to keep his tone level and casual. 

"Probably, why?" Mickey asks, although he's pretty sure he knows where Ian's going with this. He keeps his face passive, even as he can feel a smile threatening to bloom on his face. 

Ian takes a deep breath. Okay, he's gonna do it. 

"Did you maybe wanna get dinner with me? While we are in Singapore?" he looks over at Mickey, who is just staring back at him, face totally void of emotion. "Or, or we could wait until we're back in LA. That would be fine. I know a nice place halfway between my town and yours. Sur, have you ever heard of it? Or if you're not into that we could do something else. Or we don't have to, I just thought it might be nice..." Ian trailed off, looking up through his lashes at the man he's been getting to know over the course of the past sixteen hours. He is nervous. What if Mickey has no interest in seeing him again after the flight? 

"You askin' me out?" Mickey asks, struggling to keep his face passive. Ian is just too adorable for his own good. This puppy shit must get him a massive amount of cock. Mickey internally grimaces. What the hell is wrong with him? 

Focus, Mickey. 

"Yeah." Ian nods, feeling more confident. "I am. So, are you interested." 

Mickey smirks, leaning forward. He runs a hand down Ian's chest, keeping their eyes locked the whole time. "Y'know, I'd be more inclined to accept your invitation if I were certain we were compatible on all fronts." 

Mickey gave Ian his lustiest look, trailing his hand down his chest, to his abs, before settling his fingers just above his belt. "I'm gonna hit the bathroom before we land." with that he cupped Ian through his pants, pleased to find the sexy ginger had a significant bulge, which was already half hard. 

Excellent. 

Mickey let his hand drop, maintaining eye contact with Ian until he stood from his seat and walked toward the bathroom, not bothering to look back. 

Ian sat in his seat, reeling from the sudden turn of events. All he wanted to do was take the guy out to dinner. Leave it to his new crush to up ante significantly. 

Wasn't he just telling himself before he boarded this flight that he was well beyond hooking up in public restrooms?

But fuck it. 

Ian's intrigued, and definitely up for the challenge. He waits a full minute before following Mickey toward the bathroom in the front of the plane. 

Holy shit. This is going to be amazing. 

 

***************************************

 

Mickey is standing in the first class bathroom, looking around. It's bigger than the bathrooms on other flights he's been on. Which is a good thing, since Ian is built and tall, and it would be hard to maneuver in a regular sized airplane bathroom. 

Mickey's excited. It's not ideal, fucking Ian for the first time in the airplane toilet, but he can't pass up the opportunity. Whether or not anything real happens with Ian, this will be a moment to remember, for sure. 

Mickey runs a hand through his hair, staring at himself in the mirror. Okay. 

He had left his suit jacket in his seat, so he loosens his tie and pulls his shirt out of his slacks. That's as far as he gets before there's a quiet knock on the door. 

Mickey takes a deep breath, letting it out in a quick huff before leaning over and flicking the lock. The door slides open immediately and there he is. 

Ian's got this dark, hungry look on his face as he forces his way into the small space. He closes he door behind him, locking it with a swipe of his finger and then he's on Mickey. 

Ian winds a hand around his waist, pulling their bodies together. Mickey tips his face up in anticipation, and Ian doesn't disappoint. Their lips meet in a biting kiss. Mickey remembers just in time that he has to be quiet, so he tempers his moan by shoving his tongue into Ian's hot mouth. 

God, this fucker can kiss. 

Mickey throws his hands up, burying them in that gorgeous fucking hair. He pulls, reveling in the groan that slips past Ian's lips and into Mickey's mouth. Mickey smiles against Ian's lips, sliding his tongue over Ian's again and again. 

Ian's hands slide down Mickey's back to rest on his glorious fucking ass. He pulls Mickey forward, grinding their growing erections together. They roll their hips against each other, running their hands over each other's bodies as best they can in the confined space. 

"Fuck." Ian whispers. "How d'you wanna do this?" 

Mickey pulls back, giving Ian a flirty smirk. "Sit the fuck down." he says, going for his belt. "And get your dick out." 

Ian laughs, a shocked smile splitting his lips. He does as he's told, however. He's down for whatever Mickey wants to do in this moment. He unzips his pants, pulling them down around his ankles, as he closes the lid on the toilet and sits. He hisses as his bare ass comes into contact with the seat, but any complaint dies on his lips as he watches Mickey drop his pants. 

That fucking ass, jesus christ.

Ian is begging every god he's ever heard of that Mickey is a bottom. It's only fair. Ian's suffered so much in his life, he should be given this one thing. 

"You got a condom?" Mickey asks, turning around to face away from Ian. 

"Um, yeah." Ian nods, even though Mickey can't see him. He leans over, rifling through his pants pocket until his fingers wrap around the condom he always carries. Always be prepared, and all that jazz. 

"Well, put it on your dick, dude. We're kinda on a time crunch here." Mickey rolls his eyes, but he's smiling. 

A huge smile blooms on Ian's face in return. 

Fuck Yes! 

He rips the condom open with his teeth, tossing the wrapper in the tiny trash bin in the wall. He rolls the condom down his achingly hard cock, stroking it slowly to ease some of the tension. Jesus, they've barely done anything, no foreplay to speak of, and Ian is harder than he can ever remember being. 

"Okay, I'm ready." he says, locking eyes with Mickey in the mirror. Mickey gives him a small nod, fishing out a packet of lube from his own pocket and tearing a corner off. 

"How the fuck did you get lube on the plane?" Ian aks, as Mickey turns in the small space to smear the cool liquid all over his covered cock. Ian groans as Mickey's hand slides up and down his shaft, spreading the lube all over. 

"You put it in a ziplock bag, like any other liquid." Mickey laughs, giving one final tug before turning back around and bracing himself on the sink. "What kind of frequent flyer are you?" he asks, reaching behind himself and grabbing Ian's dick, pressing it up against his hole as he sits down, so fucking slow. 

"Oh, fuck." Ian groans. 

Mickey's a pro. He fucks without a lot of prep most of the time. But Ian is fucking huge, and the stretch is more than he anticipated. He pauses as the head breaches him, breathing slowly through his nose. His fingers wrap around the sink in front of him, and he feels Ian's hands curl around his hips. 

Mickey smiles, listening to Ian's stuttering breath and muted sighs. Once he feels a little give, he sinks down more, then more. Finally, he's fully seated on that huge fucking cock. (Mickey knew it was gonna be big, and he's rarely wrong about these things.) 

Mickey sits still for a moment, rotating his hips slightly, groaning low in his throat at the feeling of being so completely full. Ian's hands slip under his dress shirt, his long fingers skimming along Mickey's flesh. He drags his fingertips over Mickey's ribs, up along his chest, before scratching his way back down to dig his fingers into his hip bones. 

Mickey sighs, rocking back and forth, letting his head fall back as Ian throbs inside him. 

"Oh my god. Jesus." Ian groans, thrusting up just a little. Mickey gets the memo, grinding his hips down on Ian's dick one more time before lifting up about half way and slamming back down, hard.

Mickey sets the fastest pace he can for the situation he's in. He grips the sink tight as he fucks himself on Ian's dick. Ian's fingers dig into his hips, pulling Mickey down forcefully as he thrusts up. God, it feels so good. Mickey's losing his damn mind. He pops his hips as best he can, reveling in the feeling of Ian's dick sliding along his rim, stretching him out in the best way. 

Ian can't breath. This hot as fuck guy he just met is riding his cock in the bathroom in the middle of a god damn international flight. He should be mortified, but all he can feel is ridiculously fucking turned on. He leans back as far as he can, so he can just watch for a moment. He can feel his eyes widen as he loses himself in the visual. His cock getting swallowed, over and over by the best ass he's ever seen. Mickey's thighs are so strong, Ian can see them contracting with every roll of his body. Ian groans, wrapping his arms around Mickey's waist and slamming his hips up as hard as he can. A broken moan slips past Mickey's lips as he goes limp on top of Ian as he fucks him frantically from below. 

Mickey cries out, bucking violently as Ian hits his prostate. His body burns with pleasure as he reaches a hand back, tangling his fingers in Ian's red hair. Ian hisses, sinking his teeth into the exposed skin of Mickey's neck. 

Mickey laughs, slamming down as hard as he can, pulling Ian's hair the whole time. It feels good between his fingers. Everything about Ian feels good. 

Ian can't take this shit anymore. He surges to his feet, taking Mickey with him as he pins him to the counter and starts drilling into him relentlessly. He needs to be deeper. He needs to feel him more. 

"Oh fuck. Christ." Mickey moans, bracing himself as best he can on one hand as the other snakes around his body to grab Ian's ass, pulling him in deeper with each thrust forward. "Fuck yeah, just like that, c'mon." he moans.

Ian smiles at himself in the mirror. They make quite a picture, that's for sure. Mickey's head is thrown back, his eyes closed, a wide, manic smile on his lips, his tongue darting out now and then to wet his lips. 

Fuck, he's gorgeous. 

"You like that, huh? You like how I fuck you?" Ian growls, curling one hand around Mickey's still clothed shoulder for leverage as he pounds Mickey against the counter. 

Neither of them are even trying to be quiet now. Both so caught up in the moment that all else falls away, and it's just them. 

"Fuck yeah. God." Mickey nods wildly, wedging his hand between himself and the counter so he can jerk his cock. He's fucking close. And honestly, they need to hurry this along. "Fucking fuck me." 

Ian answers that command by launching a full on assault on Mickey's ass. He fucks into him with so much force, Mickey loses his balance and goes careening face first into the mirror. He's so fucked out, all he does is laugh, resting his head on the sink as Ian fucks him hard. He pulls on his dick two more times before he's coming.

"Holy fuck. Ian." he groans, as his vision whites out and warmth spreads through his whole body as he comes hard all over floor of the lavatory. 

"Yeah. Fuck yeah." Ian moans. The feeling of Mickey clenching around him is so fucking hot, he only makes three more thrusts before his orgasm hits him hard. He closes his eyes, stilling deep inside his lover as he comes hard and fucking long. 

He collapses over Mickey, who is still face down on the sink. 

"Holy shit." Ian says. "That was incredible." 

"Yeah, I agree." Mickey mumbles. "Can you let me up, now?" 

Ian laughs, peeling himself off Mickey's back and moving back a step. He grabs the condom, sliding it off his spent dick and tossing it in the trash before pulling his pants back on and straightening his tie. 

When he looks up, Mickey is also dressed, and cleaning up his own mess off the floor with a paper towel. He tosses it in the trash before turning toward Ian with a wide, sated smile. 

"So what do you think? Worth dinner?" Ian asks, feeling pretty cocky. 

Mickey rolls his eyes, but he's still smiling. "Sure, you can buy me dinner. How could I say no to a repeat performance of that." 

Ian's face falls, and he looks away. 

Mickey realizes his error immediately. He crowds Ian against the door of the lavatory, gripping him by the hips. He has to look up to see into Ian's eyes. 

He kind of likes how much taller Ian is than him. 

"Ian." he says. "I would like to see you again. You. Not just your dick. You're a cool guy. I'd like to get to know you better. Is that more along the lines of what you wanted to hear?" 

Ian's face goes from uncertain to elated in a nanosecond. He nods. 

"Jesus christ." Mickey sighs, gripping Ian by the back of the head and pulling him into a deep kiss. He runs his tongue along Ian's lips before dipping into his mouth to taste him one more time. He pulls away, resting their foreheads together. "I can't decide if you're a puppy or a princess." he chuckles."You're gonna get me in trouble." 

Ian laughs at that, tipping his head down for another kiss. Mickey pulls back after a moment. 

"Get the hell outta here. I'll be out in a minute." he turns Ian around by the shoulders and pushing him toward the door. 

Ian opens the door, looking both ways. Once he determines they haven't been found out, and the coast is clear, he leaves the bathroom. Mickey just stands there for a moment, watching himself in the mirror. He looks fucked right out. His skin is flushed, his pupils dilated. And he's got a smile on his face he's never seen before, not in his entire life. 

Fuck. 

What the fuck is he doing? 

He doesn't know the answer to that question, but he thinks he'll just go with it, this one time. 

He's got a good feeling about Ian.

 

*************************************

 

Ian looks up when he hears the lavatory door open. He knows he's smiling like a loon as he watches Mickey walk back to their seats. He's got this little bowlegged strut as he makes his way down the isle, and pride swells in Ian's chest, his mind supplying 'I did that. That's me.'

Mickey sits back down, looking over at Ian's shit-eating grin. He shakes his head, trying to temper his own smile. 

"You're pretty proud of yourself, aren't you?" he chuckled. 

"Yeah, I think I am." Ian nods, moving to lace their fingers together. He knows it's a bold move. They just met, but Ian's used to a little post-coital contact, and he's craving it, so fuck it. The worst Mickey can do is pull away. 

But he doesn't. He flips his hand over so their fingers can slide together more comfortably. 

Ian leans in close, running his nose along Mickey's neck. "You know, this means we're members of the mile high club now." he whispers, placing a tender kiss to Mickey's neck. Mickey squirms, but doesn't pull away, huffing out a small laugh. "You're an idiot." 

"What?" Ian laughs, pulling back to sit straight. The stewardess is making her way over to offer one last drink before they land. 

"You know..."Mickey starts, turning in his seat to face Ian fully. "A lot of cool shit comes with my platinum flying status. Preferential boarding, discounts on first class, free drinks, in flight movies. But I have to say, this right here..." he motions between the two of them with his free hand. "Has to be the best thing to ever come from all my business travel." 

"Fuck, that's kinda sweet." Ian smiles. 

Mickey laughs, ruffling Ian's hair with his free hand. "Don't get used to it." he mutters, just as the stewardess starts making her way over for the last time. 

Ian sits there, wondering if this is what kismet is. 

Honestly. Ian meets a guy, on a plane. This guy was born in the same place he was, then they both move. Only to end up in the same city, mere miles apart. They work in the same industry, and end up on the same flight, to the same city. 

Ian doesn't know if he believes in shit like fate, but he can appreciate a gift like this when it literally lands in his lap. 

And that's what this chance encounter feels like. A gift. 

"Give me your phone." Ian says. He puts his hand out, waiting. 

Mickey smiles, handing over the phone without protest. Ian puts his information in before handing it back. "Call me when you are checked into your hotel. I'll have Umi make us dinner reservations somewhere." 

"Umi?" Mickey asks. 

"My assistant." Ian says. 

Mickey nods, taking his phone back and looking at his new contact. 

"Flight 89?" Mickey balks. "You put your contact info as the flight number?" 

"I figured it'd be the easiest way to identify me from all the other guys you seduce on international flights." 

"Oh fuck off." Mickey laughed, changing the contact to 'Red', just because he liked it better. 

The stewardess finally made her way over, and Ian ordered yet another vodka tonic, Mickey got himself one more whiskey for the road. 

As he was ordering, his eyes fell to the couple in the second row. The man who asked him to move seats, the man he told off in no uncertain terms. He smiled. 

"Um, Victoria?" he said, reading the stewardess's name tag. 

"Yes, sir?" she replied, filling his glass and passing it over. 

"Can you get a couple glasses of champagne for the couple up in 2A and B please, on my account?" 

Victoria gave him a smile, and a nod. "Indeed, sir." 

"And please tell them I send my congratulations on their marriage, and my thanks, for switching seats." 

The stewardess gave him an odd look, but then smiled once more, making her way over to the couple with the champagne. 

Mickey watched the exchange. When the stewardess gave the couple the champagne, they turned, curious. Mickey locked eyes with them, nodding. 

He feels like a couple of glasses of champagne is the least he can do. They might think that Ian did them a favor by moving seats, but as Mickey feels Ian's fingers twisted up with his, and his head resting on his shoulder as they prepare to land, Mickey's certain he got the better end of the deal. 

Mickey turns in his seat, gripping Ian's chin with two fingers and tilting his head up. Ian smiles up at him, looking worn out and tired from the long trip. Mickey dips his head down, capturing Ian's lips in a gentle kiss. 

When he looks up, he sees the woman Ian switched seats with watching them, and he gives her a wink. 

Mickey settles back into his seat for the last leg of the flight, feeling a swell of happiness and excitement building in his gut. 

Mickey thought he knew all the rewards of frequent business travel. But looking down at the red head who's resting against him right now, Mickey thinks he's found the one true perk of being a frequent flyer....

**Author's Note:**

> This was fun. It was a cute little prompt that I sexed right up, cuz that's just how I do. 
> 
> Thanks for reading.


End file.
